Friday, October 28, 2016

OK, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I've got something to say about this thing I keep seeing on my Facebook.

Last year, when Supergirl started airing on the CW, I thought that would be a show that Laney and I could watch. But during the (charming) pilot, Laney kept rolling her eyes and saying "Why does she have to wear a skirt?" And I'd say, "Maybe she likes to wear a skirt?"

The wearing of a skirt, you see, is not an inherently political act.

Supergirl isn't sexualized. She isn't fetishized. She has agency and intelligence. Her skirt does not impede her heroism. But somehow her skirt made her suspect. Somehow my feminist daughter picked up the belief that Girl Stuff Iz Bad. We had a talk about it. The seeds are planted. But, goddammit, you guys: feminism doesn't mean rejecting femininity.

Which brings me to this facacta thing that I have seen on my Facebook roughly eleventy million times over the last couple of days:

Oh my god, you guys! Are we really at the point where we're gonna tell our daughters that it's better to be Batman (note: MAN) than it is to be a Princess? I get that the gist is supposed to be that this girl is an independent free-thinker. But the "Batman"-ness of it cannot be ignored! The fact remains that this meme asks us to celebrate the girl who aspires to a Man.

(And god, the worst man! Batman has been a tiresome, gravelly-voiced, self-important sack of no-fun ever since Michael Keaton hung up his cowl. Latter day Batman sux. Bring it.)

The girl who likes cosmetics and clothes is not doing Girl wrong. The girl who likes superheroes and sports isn't doing Girl right. There's no right or wrong way to Girl. Girls just are.

Femininity and masculinity are, on the other hand, constructs; things we choose to dress ourselves up in. And the thing that's been historically and culturally associated with the ladieez isn't suspect for having been so.

There's not a damn thing wrong with a girl (or a boy) who likes a sparkly dress and tiaras! Tiaras are fucking fabulous! I wish I were wearing one right goddamn now.

There's not a damn thing wrong with a girl (or a boy) who wants to rock the cape and a cowl (although, you might want to expose her to some better superheroes because, as been previously stated: Batman sux).

Monday, October 10, 2016

I bet you're thinking I'm going to write some sarcastically grateful post about how Donald Trump is practically handing this election to Hillary, whom I've backed since the salad days of 2015. Nope. This goddamn thing could still turn on a dime so I'm keeping my cart firmly behind my horse.

This is something else.

When Isis (the Egyptian god, not the terrorist ratfuckers) tricked Ra into giving up his real name, she had complete control over him and was able to put her own son on the throne. When the Miller's daughter learned Rumplestiltskin's true name, she got to keep her child and her husband and all her wealth. In Scandinavian myth, there are evil male water spirits who lure women and children into their lakes and drown them. They are only defeated when called by their true name.

And Donald Trump [consults Jezebel's handy Donald Trump naming guide,} that roiling cheez whiz mass, has given us his True Name, and the True Name of so many like him.

The next time you walk into a crowd of guys and they're looking at you and laughing but they won't tell you why? You can make your eyes go big and say, "Oh, I didn't know you guys were all pussygrabbers! I thought it was just Brody!"

Pussygrabbers, through the years, have been sure they're members of a rare and privileged group; they've thought that all women wanted them and all men wanted to be them. But that name makes it a little harder to be smug, doesn't it?

Pussygrabber is not "male, chauvinist pig," which is what we called pussygrabbers back in the day. That phrase was ladylike, easy to scoff at and claim feminine hypersensitivity in the face of. But pussygrabber is happy to make you feel uncomfortable. Pussygrabber means we know exactly who you are.

The emperor has no clothes and his name is Pussygrabber. And come November:

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About Me

I'm a Chicagoan by way of Memphis, wife to Donbon and mother to Laneybon, my heart, my soul, the source of most of my heartburn. I work for a small software company. I prefer brown alcohol to clear and have grown adjusted to the fact that no matter how old I get, I'll never learn to apply eye shadow properly and my hair will never look right.